


After Sunrise

by rumandstars



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, One Shot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandstars/pseuds/rumandstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk and his First Officer know exactly how to spice up a lazy morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go out to the lovely and talented jouissant for convincing me to post this fic and, of course, for editing it.

Spock woke to the scent of coffee brewing. He blinked, suppressed a very human yawn, and ran his fingers over Jim’s side of the bed. The sheet was cold, suggesting Jim had been awake for quite awhile. Spock usually rose at sunrise himself, but he’d spent most of the night before poring over science journals and psychology articles. The one Spock read several times concerned the psychology of Starfleet personnel. It detailed the fear responses of the crews of starships and their captains in general, James T. Kirk in particular. The article had said flattering and unflattering things, none of which were true. As Spock slid out from under the covers and began making the bed, he pondered writing a counter article. It would, of course, be from a purely professional point of view.

“Jim?” Spock called softly as he padded down the hall in his bare feet.

“In here, Spock.”

Spock went into the living room to find Jim sitting in his favorite armchair, a newspaper obscuring his face. Golden California light spilled through the window, outlining Jim’s head where it peeked out from behind the paper. Jim looked as if he had sprouted his own halo, and Spock bit down on a highly illogical smile at the thought. Jim Kirk was many things. An angel was not one of them.

Jim lowered his newspaper – he insisted on ordering newspapers made from paper from the vintage printing shop down the street - and smiled. Spock quirked a brow at his captain, and Jim laughed. 

“Hey, Spock, wanna fix us some breakfast?” Jim said. His smile was far too sweet for Spock’s liking. “Then we can play if you want.”

Spock flushed, thinking back to when they first started these games. He had hurt Jim’s pride by stating that Vulcans found no satisfaction in such things, but he would do it if Jim derived pleasure from the act. Jim had been uncharacteristically embarrassed, and they’d snapped at each other over trivial matters for days. That all stopped when Jim got his first officer in bed and Spock’s body showed what his mind wouldn’t let him. He recalled the sensation of being penetrated from behind - a first for Spock, who had always maintained control in sexual situations – while Jim whispered what a good boy he was and how proud he was making his daddy. 

“Of course, Jim,” Spock said.

He left Jim sitting in the armchair and went into the kitchen. Jim always insisted on vegetarian meals when Spock was the one cooking, a sacrifice Spock was grateful for considering Jim’s love of bacon. Spock enjoyed cooking, although he did it rarely. He cut up fresh fruit while the water in the pot on the stove worked its way up to a boil. Spock bent down and retrieved a silver tray from the cabinet, then scooped oats into the boiling water. When the oatmeal was finished he put it in a single bowl and sprinkled brown sugar on top, placing the fruit on a separate plate and preparing a glass of orange juice for Jim.

“Mmm, perfect,” Jim said, eyes lighting up when Spock returned to the living room. Jim set his newspaper down and patted his knee. “Come sit in my lap.”

Spock did, balancing the tray in his own lap. Jim took the spoon from the tray, scooped up a small bite of oatmeal, and let out a hum of approval upon tasting it. 

“You want some, baby?” Jim said, and Spock nodded mutely, leaning back against his captain’s broad chest and letting Jim feed him bite after bite of hot cereal. Jim slipped pieces of sweet, ripe pineapple into Spock’s mouth, which Spock chewed and swallowed before sucking the sticky juice from Jim’s fingers.

“I think we’re all done here,” Jim murmured huskily. Only half the food – at most- was consumed, but Spock said nothing when Jim set the tray on the floor next to the discarded newspaper.

Jim lifted up Spock’s shirt, trailed gentle and appreciative fingers over his abs, and pinched his nipples lightly until they hardened and began to ache. Spock sighed, unable to keep from shifting in Jim’s lap, and lifted his arms over his head to make the removal of his shirt easier. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Jim whispered, kissing and nipping Spock’s shoulders and across his back. “Daddy’s going to be so good to you today. You’re such a good boy, you know that, Spock? I tell you what to do and you go above and beyond what I ask, whether it’s on the bridge or in our bed.”

“This is a chair, Jim,” Spock informed him. If Jim heard the tremor in Spock’s voice, he chose not to comment.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Jim laughed, and reached into Spock’s pants to give his hardening cock a rough squeeze. “Love it when you don’t wear any underwear, god. Don’t think I don’t know you go commando on the bridge sometimes. Makes me want to fuck you right there in front of everybody. Would you like that? I think you would, everyone seeing the unflappable Mr. Spock writhing and begging on his daddy’s cock.”

Spock gasped as Jim began jerking him in a slow, steady rhythm. The pressure was exquisite, just shy of overwhelming, and Spock was gritting his teeth against the friction when Jim took a moment to pull Spock’s pants off. “Spit in my hand.”

Spock moaned and did as Jim requested, squirming blissfully at the wet slide of Jim’s fist. Occasionally Jim would stop and tell Spock to spit in his palm again. Other times he would firmly push his fingers into Spock’s mouth, making him gag on them until they were soaked with saliva.

“Later I’m going to fuck that beautiful ass until you come and then I want you to suck my dick,” Jim growled, rubbing his erection against Spock’s buttocks. “You love it when daddy shows you how delicious you taste, don’t you?”

“Jim,” Spock pleaded. His hips moved of their own accord, forward into Jim’s grip and back against his hard cock, still hidden by his boxers. “Daddy, please.”

“Yeah, okay, Spock,” Jim panted roughly, mouthing at the back of his neck. “Daddy gives you permission.”

Spock’s vision went white around the edges and he shuddered as he came in hard spurts all over Jim’s hand.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” Jim nearly snarled, and Spock felt the fabric of Jim’s boxers slide against his skin as Jim pulled them down. Spock couldn’t see, but he didn’t need to. He could hear Jim’s ragged breathing and feel the harsh, almost desperate movements as he worked himself over. A few moments later Jim cried out and Spock felt warm semen coating his ass and the backs of his thighs.

“So, Spock.”

“Yes, Jim?” Spock said. They should wash up for the sake of hygiene, both of them damp with sweat and sticky from their orgasms. Spock found he did not care to move in the least.

“I think you should make breakfast more often.”


End file.
